


The White Collar Guy

by Ursula



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-11
Updated: 2010-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:56:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Neal Caffrey is raped, Special Victims Unit detectives Stabler and Benson are assigned the case. Elliot Stabler suspects Peter Burke of the crime</p>
            </blockquote>





	The White Collar Guy

Title: The White Collar Guy  
Author: Ursula  
Rating: rating:   
Genre and/or Pairing: Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey

Notes: Kink Meme prompt which asked for Stabler doing one of his famous interrogations with Peter as the subject. This was beta read by TroutKitty and WP Admirer. Trout Kitty did a long and in depth beta. I didn't take all of her suggestions. It might have been a better story if I had, but those I used made me work harder as a writer. (And whine a lot)  
Spoilers: For all episodes  
Warnings: rape  
Word Count:   
Summary: SUV crossover. Stabler thinks Peter raped Neal when he is found in an alley after a violent attack.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including Jeff Eastin and USA television. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

OooOooO

It was the grand romantic evening that Neal had been looking forward to for a long time. All Neal had to do was keep his mind on business, not run off on his own, not disobey an order, and not mention Kate for a month.

Waiting had been a trial. The promise of the honeymoon suite at the Hilton had kept Neal on the straight and narrow so he could enjoy a weekend that bent that definition into a mobius strip. El, Peter's wife, had agreed to the occasion because she was kinky as Neal was and a sweetheart to boot. Peter had agreed to buy a stylish new suit. He insisted on paying for the suite too, not wanting to feel guilty about the source of funds if he let Neal help.

The one thing Peter didn't seem to get that love wasn't a one-way street. He held it against Neal that he couldn't let go of Kate, but Neal didn't rag him about El. El was his friend, someone he trusted in a different way then he trusted Peter. El helped him because her heart was generous and big enough to find a place for Neal even if it meant sharing her husband with him.

Kate was a part of Neal's life almost as long as his friend, Moz. She may have had her foibles, but Neal just couldn't turn loving her off. Love wasn't like that.

Still, Peter was Peter. He had flaws up to his hair line, but Neal loved every inch of him...   
Everything had gone perfectly. The dinner was fantastic and Peter's manners were delightful. He didn't complain about the price or the serving size. He remembered not to talk about cases. He was charming, attentive, and uniquely sweet. Neal loved Peter more than ever.

In his fantasies, Peter and El and he would live together with Satchmo. He and El would enjoy their friendship and would help Peter to be a happier, less job-focused person.

The honeymoon suite was a symbol. Peter and Neal would celebrate this thing they had that consumed them both. After dinner, they went upstairs and Peter let Neal tease him into dancing. It didn't matter that Peter was right. He was not a good dancer. Still, they moved together and the touches grew more intimate as if this was a first time.

The kiss they shared was something Neal would never forget. One of Peter's big gentle hands cupped his cheek and the other fanned across his back. Peter's kiss took his breath away; Neal didn't want to stop. They gasped when finally nature made them break apart. Peter had stood there looking at him before sighing contentedly and tenderly starting to undress him. Peter kissed Neal's skin as it was unveiled a few inches at a time. The air conditioning chilled Neal until Peter's mouth warmed him.

"I hate these bruises," Peter said after letting Neal's shirt drift to the floor.

"I love them. You kept me from falling."

Peter had pulled Neal up when a criminal they were chasing knocked him off the roof. Peter had reached down to help Neal to safety, his grip so strong that two days later Neal still wore the marks on his upper arms.

After kissing the bruises with the lightest brush of his lips, Peter finished undressing Neal.

When Neal was naked, Peter picked him up with a grunt. Neal was solid muscle, heavier than he appeared. Peter managed to lower Neal with grace before stripping his own nice suit away like it was rags.

If Neal didn't already love Peter, he would have loved him when Peter's pupils grew larger looking at him. He adored him when Peter's hands trembled when they touched them. When Peter looked at him with helpless devotion...

It was the best lovemaking yet. Peter had finally agreed to forgo a condom and it was his naked heat that entered Neal. Peter shook with his need when he plunged deep into Neal. Neal worked himself frantically to Peter's thrusts.

"Mine," Peter kept saying.

Peter was full of raw passion and Neal loved it. Peter explored every inch of him. He claimed Neal and cleansed him of pain and uncertainty. Peter made Neal feel only the love and the pleasure that they gave each other.

"Neal!" Peter roared, lost in rapid rutting, his orgasm reflected in the wild joy in his eyes. "Neal, come. Come for me."

And Neal shuddered and gave himself to Peter, obeying.

OooOooO

Afterwards, Peter held Neal, even when Neal might have moved away to give Peter some distance. Giving into the closeness, Neal snuggled his face into Peter's neck and put his arm around Peter's truly magnificent chest. When Neal moved away far enough to see Peter's expression, the worried look bewildered Neal.

"Peter," Neal said.

The frown disappeared and Peter said, "I love you."

It wasn't what Neal expected. The words dissolved any regrets, any trepidations.

After that, they both slept for a while. It had been a difficult week, a difficult case, physically and mentally draining. Neal had been in danger. Peter saved him, of course, but the toll was alarming. Before...before Peter, prison, the FBI, the imprisonment of the anklet and the even more confining link of Peter's love, Neal had frequently taken risks. It had seldom involved people shooting at him or man-handling him. He had been too clever; too much the chess master to be caught by any mere policeman or irate mark. It had taken Peter to catch him...and, oh...oh, had Peter caught him, cuffed him, marked him, took him by the heart strings and kept him.

OooOooO

Neal woke with Peter's lips on his neck. He sleepily stroked Peter's head. "Nice way to wake."

"I can make it nicer," Peter promised. His lips and tongue continued down. His blowjobs needed work when they'd first made love, but Peter was determined in all things. He learned quickly and now he could turn Neal on so totally that he made a fool out of himself.

Peter's finger inside him was persistent. The second one felt good too. Peter's voice was throaty with need as he said, "I want you on your knees."

This was about as kinky as it got with Peter, who usually liked Neal on his back. Peter loved to watch Neal's face as they fucked and loved the ability to touch so much of him. Neal suspected that Peter also loved the tracker rubbing over his shoulder. That little symbol of Neal's captivity turned Peter on.

Peter took Neal from behind, covering him, making him feel captive yet safe. Peter was the only one that made him feel that way.

The only one he trusted...

The one...he loved. Too much. Not wisely.

Neal felt the fire grow in him. Peter left him almost ready to come before he entered him. Neal had flagged a little when Peter breeched him; his lover was big. Soon Neal's excitement rose became a joyous rush of need and pleasure.

"You..." Peter gasped. "You are so perfect. Why can't I stop wanting you?"

It didn't even hit Neal until after they both detonated with pleasure. Why did Peter want to stop desiring Neal?

OooOooO

Peter went back to sleep. Neal was used to that. It wasn't really late. Neal relit the fireplace and crouched in front of the flames, naked. The heat licked at him. His back was cold, but he didn't feel like getting dressed. He heard Peter getting out of bed. When his lover came over, Neal glanced up, surprised that Peter had pulled on slacks.

Peter squatted too. He said, "You looked so beautiful like that. A naked warrior by the fire."

"Whatcha thinking about?" Peter said.

"The music box," Neal admitted.

"That again," Peter said, forehead wrinkling, mouth turned down. "Kate's no good for you."

"You said that you would help me, Peter," Neal said.

"I might have spoken too soon," Peter said. "I want Fowler gone forever, but Kate isn't his puppet."

"You assume," Neal said.

"I have good instincts," Peter said.

"Women throw you off," Neal replied. He stood up, suddenly not wanting to be naked in front of Peter. He went toward his suitcase and grabbed clean underwear.

"Crying women throw me off," Peter said, following Neal. He put his hand on Neal. "Neal, you're a bright guy. Why can't you see that Kate doesn't love you? I can't keep doing this. It's Kate or me."

"Don't ask me to make that choice."

Neal loved Peter, but he needed to move, to walk, to have some time to think. He finished dressing and moved toward the door. "I'm going to go for a walk. I need to think. To sort things out."

"Please don't go. Please. Let's talk."

"I'll be back. You know how I need to move sometimes. How I need to know I am free to go."

"Neal..."

The soft sad word followed Neal out the door.

It felt wrong to leave Peter, but Neal felt so much confusion. He didn't know what he wanted. It was all so much simpler when it was only Kate. He loved Peter, but he also loved Kate. He didn't want to choose. How could he? It wasn't fair that Peter asked him to decide.

As he walked, the trapped feeling faded. He should turn around go back to Peter. Neal decided to walk another block and then he would return to the hotel and apologize to his lover.

Voices followed Neal as he passed a bar. He walked faster, feeling threatened. He heard footsteps following him. He looked behind him and saw nothing, He kept walking and turned a corner, trying to double back to the hotel. The footsteps came quicker. Neal ran. Now he could see two men chasing him

Passing an alley, Neal was too intent on the men behind him to see the man stepping out until he was right up to him. The man had a baseball bat and swung it. Neal fell, dimly felt hands on him and then nothing.

OooOooO

"What do we have?" Stabler asked. It had been a reasonably slow night and he was ready to get out of the office. At the very least, he was ready for some decent coffee. His partner, Olivia Benson, said, "Male rape victim over at Mercy."

"Okay," Stabler said. "Your expression is telling me that there's something weird about this case. It's not a kid, is it?" Stabler hated working the kid cases. They made him worry about his own children, gave him nightmares, and sent him stalking his own children to try to keep them safe.

"No, the victim is an adult," Olivia said. "He's one of us. Kind of one of us."

"Shit," was Stabler's first reaction. It wouldn't be the first time a perp took that kind of revenge on a LEO. "What do you mean kind of one of us?"

"The victim's name is Neal Caffrey," Olivia said. "He's the parolee to the White Collar crime unit of the FBI. I told you about him."

Olivia had told Stabler about Caffrey mostly because Stabler caught her looking him up. She happened to meet him down at the courthouse and the guy flirted with her. For once, Olivia liked the flirtation, describing the guy as adorable and very attractive. He had been testifying on another case and was waiting for a courtroom with his handler, a veteran FBI agent named Peter Burke.

It vaguely offended Stabler to think about this Caffrey bargaining his way free. He was an old school cop and the lines between good guy and bad guy were cleanly divided for him. He didn't approve of this guy negotiating his way to freedom. He thought this Peter Burke must be some kind of new age guru of a cop...the kind he couldn't stand. Stabler was a cop, not a mother fucking social worker.

It didn't matter now though. A victim was a victim. Neal Caffrey was a victim.

OooOooO

Olivia had met Neal Caffrey at the court house. She thought he was like some brilliant bird with plumage glittering in the sun. When he walked into a room, it was if there was a spot light following him, loving him, gilding him in glory. His grins were novas bursting down boundaries. Oh my God, how the man seemed to love his attention. Normally, Olivia would have hated that, but Neal's flirtation had seemed universal, men, women, even a little girl there for her adoption.

The other thing Olivia recognized was the helpless gaze of Caffrey's partner, Peter Burke. The man's rueful gaze followed his companion around the court waiting room, occasionally stirring as if he meant to call him back, but nearly always stopping himself. Olivia was a great observer of people, more so than just that required by her job. She had that inner eye every child of a dysfunctional family developed and was preternaturally aware of interactions between people. So it was easy for her to see that Burke loved Caffrey. For her the surprise was watching Caffrey's expression when he turned to look at his handler. The love in that handsome face was heartbreaking.

A moment later, Caffrey was flirting with Olivia again, teasing her, making her feel beautiful. She had told him what she did for a living. He said he thought she must be great at her job. He asked about her work, but then said something about her eyes and her smile that made her feel beautiful. She was charmed and regretful when Caffrey was finally called to testify. He shot one last sparkling grin in her direction before disappearing into the courtroom with his handler.

The man in the bed didn't look much like the Neal Caffrey Olivia had met. He seemed smaller and the light was drained from him. The left side of his face was bruised and his eye-socket was not only swollen but the eye shot through with red. He gripped the hospital blanket with one hand. The other trembled over his collarbone.

"I'm Detective Stabler," Elliot said. He looked at Caffrey.

Olivia could see Elliot staring at the tracking bracelet and grimacing. Elliot responded to Olivia's warning glance with a shrug.

"Let me see him," a loud voice said.

It was Peter Burke, upset and red-faced. He said, "Neal..." as he saw Caffrey's condition.

Olivia and Stabler studied Caffrey's reaction. Caffrey's good eye went to Burke and then he looked away. His hands knotted on the hospital blanket. He swallowed dryly. He took a deep breath before saying, "Hi, Peter."

"What happened?" Burke demanded. He drew a quick ragged breath. "You didn't come back and then I had this report that you were...you were...."

"I was raped, Peter. I don't remember much but I know that."

"Neal."

Olivia read worlds in the word. Burke's voice shook. His hands curled in fists.

Turning to Stabler, Burke said, "I want the guys who did this."

Olivia could see the suspicion in her partner's face, but then Stabler suspected anyone close to victims. Sadly, he was usually right.

"What's your relationship with Mr. Caffrey?" Stabler asked.

"I supervise him," Burke replied. "He's my consultant. We're friends."

"Close friends? Mr. Caffrey told my partner he was staying at the Hilton Garden with a friend."

"We're close friends."

"Were you at the Hilton with him?" Stabler asked.

Olivia saw Caffrey shake his head. Burke lowered his eyes. His mouth tightened. He answered, "Yes, I was staying with him."

"But you live in New York?" Stabler asked. "Why rent a hotel room?"

"It was a treat for Neal. He loves the Hilton."

"Nice," Stabler said. "I'm fond of my partner, but I haven't rented her a fancy hotel room for a sleep over."

Olivia snorted. As if.

"We need to talk, Mr. Burke," Stabler said. "You might want to call your attorney."

"No, thank you," Burke replied. Turning to Caffrey, Burke added, ""I'll call El, Neal. Is that all right?"

"El is my wife," Burke explained.

Caffrey shook his head and then nodded. "Yes, I want to see El. Detective Stabler?"

"Yes, Mr. Caffrey?"

"You can tell Peter anything about my case. He's the one I trust. No one else."

Stabler said, "Olivia, can you find a release for Caffrey to sign? Mr. Burke and I are going downtown. I want you or someone else to stay with Caffrey when he has a visitor."

OooOooO

On the way back to the precinct, Stabler noticed that Burke's knuckles were bruised. He said he hit the wall in the hotel garage when he heard that Caffrey was in the emergency room.

Stabler had hit a wall more than once in frustration, but he didn't necessarily believe that was how Burke hurt his hands. "You might want to call your attorney."

"I'm not calling my attorney," Burke said. "There's nothing I can tell you that's incriminating. I did not hurt Neal. I would never hurt Neal or anyone like that."

"You're having an affair with Caffrey; that's pretty damn obvious."

Burke looked Stabler in the eyes and didn't look away. "I'm not ashamed of that. I love him and my wife knows."

"Will you consent to a body search?"

Now Burke's eyes flashed with resentment. He scowled, his forehead wrinkling, but nodded.

 

Stabler left Burke sitting in an interrogation room after forensics took pictures of his hands and did a visual inspection of his body. There were no injuries other than the hands...no recent injuries. Burke had both knife and gunshot scars on his body. He certainly didn't look like someone who pursued non-violent offenders.

Burkes' record looked better than Stabler's own, which was becoming checkered. There was an Office of Professional Responsibility investigation which cleared Burke and indicted the judge who accused him. Other than that, Burke's record glowed. As Burke had said, Caffrey had made him look even better. One major bust after another in the year they had been partners.

Burke's boss liked him. His coworkers and subordinates were crazy about him.

Interestingly enough, Caffrey was also well-liked. Apparently he had adjusted well to his consultant role although Stabler didn't agree with how the FBI used a civilian. He wasn't sitting in the office, giving advice. They had him running undercover operations and working in the field.

When Stabler returned to Burke, the man didn't look any more or less uncomfortable than when Stabler had left him. For the first time, Stabler struggled with the dichotomy of interrogating one of his own. He hated bad cops but he didn't get that feel from Burke, more like the guy was caught in something that took him by surprise.

"Tell me about earlier tonight," Stabler said.

"It was a date," Burke said. "My wife likes me to take Neal out and treat him sometimes. She thinks he needs romance."

"You wife tells you to take your male lover out?" Stabler said.

"If you knew El, you would understand. You can't argue with her," Burke said.

Stabler was thrown off his game, trying to imagine Kathy's reaction to finding out he was having an affair. He shuddered. Even his relationship with Olivia had bothered Kathy to the point that it was part of the reason for their separation. "You and your wife have an open marriage?"

"No, it's an exception. We both care for Neal. My relationship with him includes sex. El's doesn't, but we love him," Burke said.

"But you and Caffrey argued to the point he stormed out of the hotel room," Stabler asked.

Burke traced his fingers on the table. He shook his head. "He didn't exactly storm out. I made a comment about Neal's ex. She dumped him when he was in prison and seems determined to ruin his new life. He said he needed to think and went for a walk. He needed to get out. To feel free and to calm down."   
"This does not look good, Burke," Stabler said. "I understand. You love him and you don't want him running after the woman. He belongs to you. So maybe you got a little rough. It's understandable. He needed to be shown who he belongs to."

The snort brought Stabler out of his head space. He looked into the intelligent almost amused eyes of Burke. The FBI agent said, "That really works for you?"

"Yes," Stabler said. "Yes, it does."

"My perps are brighter than your perps are," Burke said. "I'm not that kind of person, Stabler. Ask my wife. Ask Neal."

"We will," Stabler said. "You can bet we will."

OooOooO

Here are the pictures you wanted," Shelby, the nurse, said. She handed Olivia the stack.

Glancing through the folder, Olivia cocked her head. There were bruises all over Caffrey. Big ones on his sides and hips. There were other bruises on his arms, someone had gripped him hard on the tops of his arms. Those bruises were older than the other marks. She walked over and showed them to Caffrey. He looked at them and said, "I remember..."

"You know how you got those?" Olivia said.

"Peter was holding onto me. I was pushed off a ledge and Peter helped me up."

"Did Peter Burke rape you?" Olivia asked.

"No!" Caffrey said, shaking his head, dark thick hair flying everywhere. "Peter would not do that to me."

"Are you sure you're weren't raped at the suite?" Olivia said. It didn't matter. An evidence team was already all over the hotel room.

OooOooO

"Neal, hey, man, are you all right?" This was from a mouse of a man, balding, wearing thick old fashioned glasses on his round face. He was bundled in a heavy coat, muffled in a long red sweater and wore sturdy shoes. He was short and had shoulders that sloped wearily.

Caffrey lit up at the sight of him. "Moz!"

Olivia had her laptop, but nothing turned up on Moz with an approximate description.

"Oh, man, what happened to you?" Puffing himself up like a game cock, Moz said, "Your suit had better not have done this to you."

Olivia has an aha moment when she heard that. So Caffrey's friend immediately thought was that Peter Burke might have been the one that assaulted Caffrey.

Sighing, Caffrey looked at Olivia and said, "My friend indulges himself in paranoia. His mistrust for Peter is not evidence-based. He hates authority figures."

"I'd like to talk with..."

"I have my constitutional rights," Moz said. "Fifth amendment. Due process."

Grinning, Olivia said, "Peace. I just wanted to talk about your friend. About who might have hurt him."

"The suit loves him," Moz said. He sighed. "I don't have to like it. I thought the kid had better taste. But then there's Kate." The man shrugged.

"What kind of relationship do Burke and Caffrey have?"

"Weird," Moz said. "Kind of dom/sub."

"Moz..." Caffrey moaned in dismay.

"Well, it is. Not that I'm criticizing. Freedom to be you and all."

"Moz, I remember a bar that I walked by and I remember an alley. Can you go check it out? Look for evidence? Please?"

"No," Olivia said. "Don't do that, Mister...Moz. It would be interfering in a police investigation."

"I won't," Moz said, backing toward the door. He exited in a hurry.

OooOooO

After Moz left, Olivia looked at Caffrey's medical tests. There was evidence of anal trauma and there was motile sperm from one person.

"Mr. Caffrey, it appears that one of your attackers did not use a condom."

"I had unprotected sex earlier." Caffrey closed his eyes as he said this. "Consensual sex."

"You and your partner are having an affair, aren't you?" Olivia asked.

"Is it that obvious?" Caffrey replied.

"Yes, it is. I saw the way he looks at you."

"Peter and I love each other. He didn't attack me."

"You don't remember," Olivia said. Strange that so much of her work involved rape. She was the child of such a brutal crime. It was worse for men some said. Olivia thought it was horrible for anyone.

"I know it wasn't him," Caffrey said. "I'm good at reading people. It's part of my work."

"Your work with the FBI?" Olivia asked.

"Maybe," Caffrey said, managing a pleasant little laugh. "Maybe the work that qualified me to act as an expert."

She had read the files. Caffrey was not well known by name because before his arrest, he had not been caught. He had made a grand run of it for Peter Burke. Olivia was well aware of how obsessive it could become chasing your quarry. She couldn't imagine Stabler taking it as far as Burke had, but Stabler was pretty uptight about sex. He was a real altar boy beneath the rough edges.

"Your Agent Burke seems different from the people I work with," Olivia said.

"Peter gets into the heads of people when he works a case," Caffrey said.

"Elliot does that, my partner," Olivia said. "He's really good at interrogations. He sucks the suspects into thinking he's on their side."

"The funny thing is that Peter can genuinely be on your side," Caffrey said. "Sure he wants to do his job and catch you, but he has this sense of humor. He doesn't look down at you. When he was chasing me, it became about winning. It was a game to me and perhaps to him also. I never hurt people, not physically, and I never picked a victim who couldn't afford to lose what I took. I picked my targets carefully. I went after people who exploited others. I thought myself a shark who ate sharks. Peter knew that."

"We're not the judges, Caffrey," Olivia said.

"He sent me to prison for four years," Neal replied. "Peter may have felt some sympathy, but it didn't stop him from doing his job. Later, when we made our parole arrangement, I realized I wanted him. It took me months to get him to respond. I know it was wrong. I should have just let him be himself. He's a good man, Olivia. I'm the one who over reacted."

"You sound like a hundred other battered partners," Olivia said.

"I'm not," Neal said. He shuddered and said, "I really screwed it up now. Peter's going to lose his job."

"Neal?" A voice said from the doorway.

The woman was beautiful as blue eyed and dark haired as Neal. She moved rapidly to the bed and held her hands out. A moment later, she sat on the bed, both of Neal's hands in her own. 'Are you all right?"

"I'll live," Neal said.

The woman glanced at Olivia who said, "I'm Detective Olivia Benson."

"I'm Neal's friend, Elizabeth Burke," The dark woman said.

Olivia took Burke's wife in. Burke liked them pretty. The woman was a match for the man. She was beautiful, not in the cold and remote way that many physically gifted people are. Her blue eyes shone with lively intelligence. She had laugh wrinkles at her eyes and faint crinkles around her mouth. She had a heart shaped face with a broad forehead and small round chin. Her nose had just the smallest tilt to it. Her body was lush, generous and soft. Olivia would have had a figure like that except her work kept her muscles mass higher than most women.

Neal embraced Elizabeth Burke as she made comforting sounds. He was crying which Olivia noted not with derision, but with relief for him. Oh, she was glad her partner wasn't there. She loved Stabler but he could be such a pig around men who were less uptight than him, come to think of it that was most of his gender actually.

"They accused Peter of doing this to me," Neal said. "I can't remember what happened, but I know that's not true."

Olivia said. "Sometimes memories come back. Sometimes it's physical. Other times it is emotional trauma."

Elizabeth Burke moved over, still holding Neal, but turning so she could see Olivia. "My husband would never do this. He's a good man. He loves us both and we...we love each other too. It's something special, like a gift that we can share him and that we can care for each other as much as we do."

"People act in the heat of passion," Olivia said.

"Not my husband," Elizabeth said.

"Not my lover," Neal added.

At that moment, Olivia hoped that Burke was innocent. A rapist shouldn't have that much love and loyalty.

OooOooO

Stabler had to hand it to Burke. The man wasn't breaking. Burke stared at him with a withering gaze. "Lazy police work. Yes, I know, look at the lover, the husband, the wife when you have a homicide or assault, but don't assume that's always going to be your answer."

"You're smart," Stabler said. "I can tell that, but smart doesn't stop guys from losing their mind over a love affair."

"It's not a love affair," Burke said steadily. "I love Neal. You can try to make it dirty and tawdry, but it's not. I love my wife also, but when I met Neal, we were drawn together. We need each other. He's my creative side, my spark. I'm the one that steadies him."

"Fact is that you broke the law by starting a relationship with a felon who was in your care. There are laws for a reason. Is he worth throwing your career away?" Stabler said.

"I'd give my life to protect him," Burke said. "He feels the same about me. You've never had a fight with someone you love?"

Elliot thought about all the disagreements with Kathy who he did love despite all the drama and the bad choices on his part. He also had to think about Olivia, his partner who he loved in a different way than his wife. He found himself believing Burke.

Poor shit. Even if he was cleared, he might face prison.

"I'd like to see Neal," Burke said. "I don't think you have enough to hold me on, but, in case you wonder, I have a lot keeping me here. Perhaps I will lose my job, but I still have a wife I love, good friends, a house, even a dog. You won't lose track of me."

Stabler could have held him. He carried weight with the prosecutors, but he felt something instinctive about Peter Burke. He didn't think the man had it in him. It made Stabler happier to find that he could still believe in innocence. He thought it had been scalded out of him by the dirt, the misery, the lava flow of human evil with which he lived in his work.

"Yeah, you can go," Stabler said. "I hope I don't regret making this decision."

Burke stood up with tired dignity. He smiled a crooked half smile. He said, "They're out there, the men who did this. Find them before I do, Stabler."

Stabler had not meant to speak but the words were drawn out of him. He said, "I will."

OooOooO

Stabler retraced Caffrey's route, looking for the tavern that Olivia had called him about. New York was called the greatest city on Earth, but it was really many cities in one. You could hear almost any language in the world and never leave the city limits. New York was powerful, dirty, shining, and heart-breaking. Stabler loved it like a mistress who broke his heart every week.

In this case, stepping a few feet from the elegant hotel led to darkness and squalor. Stabler didn't find a tavern a block away from the hotel in any direction. He frowned and finally just picked a direction, letting his feet take him where they would. He finally saw the tavern, a dark hole in the wall. A sign said "Po-l".

Okay. Stabler went inside, ordered a drink and found a dark place to watch. It was just a hang out. Nothing special. Cheap drinks, watered-down, and a pool table. Some local thugs went in and out, watching people pass, making remarks to each other or to the people passing by. The better dressed the person, the more disgustingly insulting the men got.

Stabler asked the bartender, "You don't worry about them scaring people off?"

"Harmless fun," the bartender said.

"It ever go past that?" Stabler asked.

The bartender shrugged. He said, "Not my problem if a swish gets himself a little rough action if you know what I mean. Too many of them if you ask me."

And Stabler knew. Gut feelings don't win cases. He had to find some evidence. He left his drink unfinished and walked into the brutal night.

OooOooO

Despite his worries, despite the imminent loss of part of him, his work, despite his concern that he would lose everything, Peter only had eyes for his Neal.

"I'm sorry," the words spoken as one.

"No, it was my fault," echoed twice.

They found a laugh in that. Finally, Peter said, "I wasn't fair. I don't have the right to ask you to give up Kate. I love you."

Nodding, his eyes shining, Neal said, "I know. I love you, Peter. That's why I get so angry. You make me feel too much."

"I hate that they hurt you," Peter said. He kissed Neal's forehead, his hair, but not his lips until Neal pulled him down into a long kiss.

Even in prison, Neal had been safe from that kind of abuse. Peter knew that Neal was wary, tough, good at thinking his way out of trouble. Sometimes though, you can't predict what was going to happen. The man...men who did this were as far from Neal as possible. Neal was a gentle, creative lover who would never want to use force.

Looking up, Peter saw the female detective watching, evaluating. He felt a spark of anger, but fought it back. He understood. Now if they could only understand that he could never have hurt Neal that way.

OooOooO

Moz wanted to pretend that he still thought the suit could have done it, but he wasn't that good at lying to himself. No, Suit loved Neal and Neal loved Suit.

Really, Moz had always known that Kate did not love Neal the way Neal loved her. She didn't love him the way that Moz did, with a mixture of pride, frustration, and out-and-out worship. It was not a sexual love that Moz felt. To him, Neal was great art, unique, in motion, always changing. Moz adored his intelligence and to some extent, the times when Neal made foolish choices. Neal was dangerous.

Moz was alive because he listened to that little voice inside that said they REALLY were out to get you. The only time he ignored it was to bail Neal out of trouble.

So what the hell was he doing in this dangerous part of town trying to clear the Suit's name?

It wasn't even just Neal. Moz was smitten with El and he couldn't bear the thought of disappointing her.

Here Moz was slogging through dark streets, looking for who knows what... There was a sort of mini courtyard that held the dumpsters for several buildings. Moz winced at the smell but searched the junk scattered on the broken slabs of concrete.

Moz found one of Neal's linen handkerchiefs , wadded and soiled with blood and come. Moz knew better than to touch it. He called the woman detective, having pilfered her card from Neal's bed table.

"Detective Benson?" Moz said.

"Yes, this is Detective Benson," the woman said.

"I have something, found something," Moz said. "I'm in the alley at eighth and 35th street."

"I thought I warned you to leave the investigation to the pros," Benson said.

"The last people who believed 'I'm from the government; I'm here to help you' lost the continent," Moz said.

"I think my partner is searching the area," Benson said. "His name is Elliot Stabler."

"I've heard of him. Wasn't he on the cover of Civil Rights Violation Monthly?" Moz shot back.

"No, he was the foldout, he looked great wearing only his gun," Benson said.

Moz had to ask this lady for a date.

OooOooO

Stabler arrived in the alley, wondering why Olivia sounded like she had been laughing when she called to direct him here. He saw two reflective lights and a whitish blur as if a gigantic albino rat scurried behind the dumpster.

"Don't shoot," the rat said.

That was a respectful way for a talking albino rat to greet him so he didn't shoot. Stabler asked, "You're Caffrey's intrusive pal?"

"That's me," the rat said. "You can call me Mr. Haversham."

"Havisham?" Stabler clarified.

"Whatever," the man said. "Here's Neal's handkerchief. I didn't touch it."

Shining a flashlight, Haversham highlighted a bloody wad of expensive handkerchief.

Stabler could tell it had not been disturbed. Someone had stepped on it and it was stuck to the soiled concrete of the alley. The footprint might possibly be helpful. He called a forensics team to catalog and remove the evidence. Stabler searched again, running his flashlight over the area by the dumpster. When he looked up, Haversham was gone, silent as a ghost. Amazing.

There were several condoms discarded by the dumpster, no big surprise as they littered the ground liberally in this area of town lately. There were numerous complaints from merchants about public intoxication and its little friend, public fornication, since the area stopped being a shoe mecca. When the economy and changing times killed the shoe retailers which had set the theme for Eighth Street, in had come cheap bars, ethnic restaurants, and a variety of inexpensive retail fronts. Somehow, these businesses had attracted street walkers and Stabler did not mean the higher class whores. These ones were down and dirty of both or other gender. Still these condoms could be a clue.

Leaning closer, wrinkling his nose at the smell, Stabler saw that several of the discarded condoms were smeared with blood. Yeah, it was looking as if his instincts were still good. This was a rape scene with more than one offender.

Stabler could clear Burke of raping his parolee, saving his job was more iffy.

Stabler walked out of the alley, leaning on a wall, bored and bitchy. He called Olivia and said, "Get a uniform to watch Caffrey. We have a crime scene here and it looks as though Burke is not the perp."

"Are you on Eighth?" Olivia asked.

"Yeah, waiting for the forensics team," Stabler said. "Come on down."

"Be right there," Olivia said.

OooOooO

Peter winced as he saw the number on his cell phone. It was Hughes. He answered with dread and his boss said, "I'm at my office. Come."

First Peter hugged El and kissed her, sweet full lips, tender gaze, the lush body in which he took his comfort and joy nearly every day for ten years. Then Neal, all sparkle, fire, lean flesh and muscle, so alive, strong, vibrant.

"It will be all right," Peter said. "No matter what happens, I'll protect you. You won't go back."

Neal said nothing, perhaps not wanting to question Peter, but he was a smart man and he probably knew it was beyond Peter's power to keep him out of prison.

Neal captured Peter's hands and said, "Peter, I choose you. I choose you and I will give her up. I will."

Peter closed his eyes and his legs felt weak. It was what he wanted. It was the reason he had hoped that he could give Neal up, stop loving him, stop craving his touch, and the way he cried out when Peter fucked him. He kissed Neal again and said, "Thank you. I love you."

"I know," Neal said. "Protect yourself, Peter. Do whatever you have to do. I can deal."

Shaking his head, Peter locked eyes with El. He hoped he hadn't just ruined her life along with his.

Peter's phone rang. He saw Hughes' number and answered it.

Hughes said, "Some troubling information came across my desk."

"I didn't do it."

"I know that," Hughes said. "My concern is the rest of it. The information is incontrovertible. There are pictures, Peter. Get over here."

OooOooO

When Peter walked into the office, Hughes stood looking over the unpopulated bullpen. Peter's supervisor, his indulgent old friend and first partner looked empty and weary.

Hughes nodded and turned, going back into his office.

It felt like walking to his execution. Peter looked around saying good-bye to the work he loved. This was his life here. Sometimes he gave this love all of his attention, taking it from El until she snapped him out of it, taking back what she deserved, a fair share of him, his heart. Then she had accepted sharing with Neal. She loved Neal with a strange depth equal but different than Peter's own.

Walking into Hughes' office, Peter said, "I didn't do it."

"You didn't commit the crime of which you were accused," Hughes said. "It is, in part, my responsibility. I suspected you were having an affair with Caffrey. I should have done something before it came to this point. I'm going to try to save your retirement. I've already called the director and offered my own resignation if you are fired. He offered to let you quit with full retirement benefits. You have your twenty, Peter. It's a decent amount of money and, knowing your wife has a thriving business, you will still be comfortable. Elizabeth, I gather, is okay with your affair?"

Peter's heart expanded with love for El. He said, "She is."

"You could go into private investigation, security. I know you've been courted by some large corporations."

"I've considered going out on my own," Peter said. "Since Neal became part of my life, I seem to be looking for something less restrictive."

Hughes nodded. "Caffrey may have lucked into something. Gless had his attorneys file a petition to abrogate his sentence. There is a good chance it will be heard, given the spectacular results of the last year. There are people who feel Caffrey has already earned his freedom." Hughes shook his head. "I'm not one of them."

Peter said nothing. Hughes sighed. "You are the last person I would ever suspect of a sexual transgression. You and your wife have been the model happy couple. Your scruples had scruples. What happened?"

Smiling despite the gravity of the situation, Peter said, "Neal happened."

OooOooO

Olivia arrived in a cloud of competence and diplomacy. Stabler had not irredeemably alienated the forensic team, but it was close. The one Stabler insisted climb in the dumpster looked as if he was considering dropping a load of the redolent discards from the health food restaurant on his head.

Teddy Vine, the tall, skinny, red-haired and very young forensic expert, whooped hollowly from the dumpster. "Hey, there are some shorts in here. Looks like someone got some bloodstains on them and went home without them."

"Now, wouldn't you have felt silly if we missed that?" Elliot said.

Snorting through his protective mask, Teddy said, "Silly, but cleaner. There's some come on the shorts too so we may have a winner. Victim's blood and one of the perp's semen. I'll get a picture in situ."

"Shiiiittt!" Teddy screamed. He slipped while trying to get the picture of the briefs.

"Teddy!" Stabler yelled.

"I'm okay," Teddy said.

"Yeah, but did you get the picture before you destroyed the scene?" Stabler said.

Olivia punched him.

Crawling out like some B movie monster, Teddy said, gagging, "Yes, I did."

"Good work," Olivia said. "If we're lucky, we'll even get a DNA match."

Impatient and tired, Stabler said, "Let's go take a walk and see if we have any harassing customers at the bars. There one in both directions so you go one way and I'll go the other. I've already been to the one that I think is a winner. It's the one to the north with the 'O' burned out in the sign. Olivia, you go check it out and see if you can hear any gossip."

"What makes me think you won't get harassed?" Olivia said. She sighed and trudged out of the alley and turned right.

The other nearby bar looked more like a neighbor hood place. He tried to think non-menacing, but when he came near the tavern, a couple of thugs looked at him and stepped into the street rather than ask him to make room. Even more irritated, Stabler stepped into the tavern, ordered a coke and leaned on one elbow to watch the room.

OooOooO

Someone whistled long and low when Olivia approached. She made a mental note, but this was the kind of place almost any single woman would get that response.

"Buy you a drink, lady?" a man said, instantly, as she approached the bar. She took a good look. He was young, white, unshaven, cheap silver chain on his neck, black denim jeans, and a black fruit of the loom tee shirt.

"Sure," Olivia said, "a diet Coke."

"A Coke?" the guy said.

"I got to drive my sister's kids later on," Olivia said, "Just had to kill an hour."

"Lonely," the guy said. "My name is Tom Harmon."

"Livy Jacobs," Olivia said.

"I like older chicks," Tom said.

Oh, what a Romeo! Olivia wondered how quickly she could move the subject to neighborhood events...

Tom talked about his Mustang, classic sixties, being rebuilt in his garage, about the job from which he was fired because they found out he had done some time.

You might say that Olivia was lucky.

A couple of Tom's friends joined them. They were complaining because the bar was being closed soon. Some 'gay' guy who owned the building wasn't going to renew the lease. Jeez, it was like losing a guy's home to lose the bar.

Jerry, no last name, snickered that "We got one of them, didn't we?" He was thick bodied, no necked, muscle bound. He had prison tats on his hand. His hair was a mass of grease, plastered to his head. His ears stuck out like handles and acne scars covered his face. He was a loser, perfect type to find rape a way to strike back at the world.

Bob, the oldest of the bunch, a swarthy fellow who wore a jacket that said, 'Avery's Garage' shushed Jerry and said, "Shut up. When they were handing out stupid, you got back in line two or three times."

Olivia shuddered and said, "I don't like those types. Don't want them around my sister's kids. Ought to be a law. My ex...he took up with one, prettier than me."

"Hey, Livy... your old man had to be blind," Tom said.

Joining the men at a table, Olivia spent the next hour trying to draw them out. Bob kept them from bringing anything up about Neal's assault if that was what Jerry meant. Bob's last name was on his coverall. It was Colt. Jerry's last name was Hinkler. Jerry and Tom had done time together for handling stolen car parts. Bob had not done time. Olivia had a feeling that was more because he had not been caught.

Olivia wished she had made a different excuse for not drinking. She gave her number to Tom, managing a flirtatious smile as she wrote it on the receipt for her coke.

Dumb luck or not, Olivia was sure she had their men.

 

OooOooO  
Neal was finally asleep. El took in the bruises on his face and his pallor. He had apologized until he was hoarse.

In a way, El was glad that Neal felt so badly. Much as she adored Neal in a confused way, a mixture of little brother, someone she found attractive, and friend, she knew that he acted without thought. He was so eager to use his intelligence to play games that he didn't consider the consequences. Neal was so impulsive, so easily caught up in his schemes that he forget that real people suffer real losses.

Neal had gone after Peter like he had gone after those antique manuscripts, precious paintings, and jewels. He had set out to seduce her husband.

El shook her head. She could have stopped Peter, but she felt Peter would have continued to long for Neal. She had toyed with the idea of insisting that she be a part of the sexual relationship, but she didn't think Peter was ready for that. She wasn't sure if Neal felt that way about her.

The truth of the matter was that she had some deep feelings for Neal she didn't understand. She had felt something from the moment they met, as if she knew him, as if they were friends for years. Perhaps she would never get it or, like they said, it was chemistry.

Neal and Peter had chemistry. The long flirtation of their chase had given hints of it. Working together ignited the subdued heat into flames. El, with her finely tuned instincts, the very ones that made her a great salesperson and event planner, had seen it long before Peter would admit it. She might have known before Neal.

El would not begrudge love. If she thought it was mere sexual attraction or Neal needing to make another conquest, she would have told Peter that he best not make a move. She had seen quickly that Neal wanted and that Neal loved. He was an affectionate creature anyway and El...oh, how El understood loving Peter. Even if Peter couldn't flirt, he was still adorable, the most lovable man she had ever met. He was sexy too, all the more because he was seldom aware of it.

Frowning in his sleep, Neal moved restlessly, uttered a sad, bereft 'no'.

"Shh, you're fine," El said.

Eyes flickering open, Neal gazed at El, blinked, and then closed his eyes again, falling into a deeper sleep. El smoothed Neal's hair; it was long and thick at the top. He always wore it combed into a high bang to the right, where its natural curl could be admired. He settled into his pillow, hand coming up against his cheek.

Glancing at her phone, El willed Peter's number to appear. She knew it would hurt him if he lost his job. She cared because he cared even though she sometimes wished he would take his retirement, spend some time with her while they were still young enough to enjoy it.

What worried El was that Peter had broken the law. What law she wasn't sure...something about his oath. Hughes adored Peter. She had to cling to that thought. Hughes would not let them send Peter to prison.

And, if he did, El would break her husband out. Neal too if needed.

Moz would help.

OooOooO

"Hughes thinks he can fix it for me," Peter said. "He can't save my job, but he thinks they'll agree to let me resign. I keep my pension. I've been thinking about starting a security consultation business anyway."

El knew that was a lie. She accepted it.

Neal woke at Peter's voice, hungry hand reaching.

After kissing El, hugging her tightly, Peter drew her with him to Neal's bed so they both sat with him. Peter's hand holding Neal's.

"If I had left you alone or if I hadn't walked out of that room like a teenager fighting with her boyfriend," Neal said.

"Shh, it's going to be fine," Peter said. "I might even let you dress me if I start my own agency."

"Won't be able to do that from prison," Neal replied.

"Gless is not only going to keep that from happening," Peter said, "he's going to get you pardoned."

"Really?" Neal said.

"So you can run off after Kate," Peter said.

"I..." Neal's voice faltered. "Oh... that was what we were fighting about. I remember. I remember everything."

Eyes tightly closed, Neal shook his head. "I saw their faces. I thought they were going to kill me. "

"I am so sorry, Neal," Peter said.

Men. They get so stuck in their struggles for power and independence.

"Get me a drawing table," Neal said. "I think Moz brought me one in my things and some charcoal."

Elizabeth sometimes forgot what a good artist Neal was. His fingers flew over the drawing pad. Three faces came to life on the paper, multiple views of them, faces brutal and cruel. Neal drew the barbed wire tattoos he had seen on one of the hands.

Shoving the pad toward Peter, Neal covered his face with shaking fingers.

This time, El's husband did better. He gathered his lover up and held him.

OooOooO

Stabler punched his pillow as if it was an especially recalcitrant perp. He hated nights like this when he couldn't think of one more thing to do on the case, but had to wait for the morning to get the arrest warrant. He finally answered the call of the whiskey waiting for him in his living room. A couple of glasses and maybe he could sleep.

It wasn't the case that bothered him. No one died. The victim wasn't a child. No one was going to get away with anything. There was a great deal of evidence and Caffrey remembered everything now.

Stabler supposed it was waiting, not doing anything, but not having the perps in custody. They were being watched, but they didn't seem to know they were in deep shit. Switching on the TV, Stabler switched through the channels, finding nothing that would help numb his brain.

The idea irritated Stabler until he poured another shot and drank it like medicine. Olivia was concerned about his drinking. Kathy was concerned about his drinking. Elliot capped the bottle. He would worry the day he couldn't put the cap back on.

Kathy didn't stir when Stabler got back into bed. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, but he didn't want to bring his troubles to bed. Kathy told him that if they were to stay together, he had to leave his work problems at the office.

Stabler wondered if having two partners allowed Burke to talk through the day's pain and worry...

OooOooO

The arrest warrants were ready bright and early. They took Colt on his way into work. He surrendered without much trouble.

Hinkler had to be dragged to the car, crying, snot running down his face, wailing about not wanting to go back into prison, swearing that it was all Colt's idea.

Tom tried to run. He saw them coming, jumped out the window in the back of his apartment, and sprinted down the alley. He tried to deck Olivia with a rock when she tackled him. She ducked at the right time, hit Tom with a fist that Stabler knew could pack a wallop. He finally stopped fighting.

Each of the accused was placed in separate cars. Stabler and Olivia agreed that they wanted to turn the three men against each other. They had the best evidence against Colt. They would plea bargain with Jerry Hinkler or Tom Harmon.

Caffrey viewed the line up with both Burkes by his side. He picked his attackers out of the line up flawlessly, no fear, no hesitation. He was certain. His artist's eye caught detail precisely.

Pointing toward Tom Harmon, Caffrey said, "He didn't want to do it to me. He stood look out."

"You're sure?" Benson asked. "We might plea bargain to get his statement."

"Yeah, it was the other two that raped me, but Harmon said something in the alley like he thought the plan was to beat me up not rape me. Really noble guy,"   
Caffrey said. His jaw tightened and his hands formed fists. "I don't know why they targeting me. I don't think I swish."

"I think what mattered was your clothes," Olivia said. "You were well dressed. Tom resented people with money. Jerry did too, plus he was horny and not good at getting laid. Colt was the one who instigated the attack. I think he's a sociopath who has gotten away with everything to this point. Colt is the one who is dangerous."

"Then let's get Colt," Caffrey said. He said, "I'm not afraid to testify."

"Good," Olivia encouraged.

OooOooO

Twirling, Neal displayed his third outfit choice of the morning to Peter who shook his head 'no'.

Sighing, Neal said, "What? You want me to wear sack cloth."

"Something conservative," Peter said, wincing at the impossibility of finding that in Neal's wardrobe.

Peter would have been on his last nerve but he had finally received his pension release yesterday. He was officially retired. It felt wrong and he grieved for his work, but there was relief too. He never felt at ease living a lie and loving Neal while being in charge of him was not right in his book. He honestly would have told anyone that no affair was worth risking his marriage and his job. He still would have said that, but Neal wasn't a fling. He was the real thing. Peter loved two people and loved them both whole-heartedly.

Taking Neal's arm, Peter pushed him back toward his apartment at June's and steered him toward the closet. Picking the suit that Neal had worn for an undercover assignment, Peter said, "This. Cowboy up. Shush. Get dressed."

Sulking, Neal dressed and looked in the mirror scowling.

"You're still lovely," Peter said, putting an arm around his lover.

"It could be worse." Neal adjusted his lapel, took another look. "Let's do this."

OooOooO

"You'll be fine. Since none of us are witnesses, Moz, El, and myself will all be there," Peter assured.

"Good," Neal said, "but I would still prefer to look my best."

"I promised the prosecutor to keep you toned down," Peter said. "Remember what they said about being sarcastic."

"I'm not the one on trial here," Neal said sharply.

"I know, but it's a jury trial," Peter said.

This was the first trial for the group. Each of the men would be tried separately. The prosecutor decided to practice her skills on Hinkler first then move on to Bob Colt, who Neal had identified as the leader and the most abusive of his attackers.  
Tom Harmon would be allowed to plea bargain for second degree assault and would get house arrest along with mandatory counseling.

"Jury means that weird things could happen," Peter said. "I know that you can make almost anyone like you, but this will be twelve people you don't know, didn't case, and so please tone it down."

Neal huffed, but finally nodded. "Okay."

OooOooO

Sitting on the stand, Neal looked a little frightened. The bruises were gone, but the shadows of trauma clearly showed. It took Peter a moment to realize it showed because Neal wanted it to show. He could deal with it. Sometimes, Neal frightened him with how he could turn himself on and off. Especially now that Peter had changed his entire life for Neal, he wanted to know that this love meant as much to Neal as it did to Peter.

"What were you doing walking on Eighth Street at that hour?"

"Objection," ADA Cabot said. "The law intends for anyone to walk anywhere in safety." She was blond, attractive, and very sharp. The only note she took of Neal's charms was to advise him to tone it down on the stand. That had amused Peter.

"The area has problem with prostitutes of either gender," Colt's attorney, Baldwin Smith said. "Mr. Caffrey has had brushes with the law."

"Sustained, the victim's occupation is not at question here," Judge Foreman said. He was white haired, wizened, and thin, near retirement. Peter had never tried a case under him which may have been why he was assigned. He had heard that Foreman was tough, never lost an appeal, but not permitting any legal games in his court room.

Neal did fine on the stand and even better on Cabot's redirect.

With all the evidence, the trial took three days, a relatively short time.

OooOooO

Neal was exhausted by the end of the trial and it was only the first one. He fell asleep in the car and Peter had to half carry him up the stairs. He helped him out of his suit and lay down with him in bed.

"I'm not going to break," Neal said. "We haven't made love since that night."

"You haven't asked," Peter said. "I didn't want to push."

"I'm asking," Neal said. "I'll beg if you need me to beg."

"How do you want it?" Peter questioned.

"Fuck me," Neal said.

It made Peter shake. He wanted it so much it hurt, but it also frightened him. The idea of Neal flashing back during sex and fearing him terrified Peter.

"Peter, please don't do this," Neal said. "Don't let them take this from us. That, I could not bear."

Neal's kisses were sweet, knowing, full of passion. His hands reclaimed Peter with confidence. Peter lost himself in Neal as he always did. He caressed Neal's face, the silken complexion in contrast to the roughness of his five o'clock shadow. Neal captured his finger, sucking it in, laughing at Peter's exaggerated reaction.

"Don't you laugh at me," Peter scolded. He reached for the lube in the drawer, hesitated over the condoms.

"You should wear one for the next few months," Neal said.

Closing his eyes, Peter tried to keep his anger out of this bed where he made love to Neal. He took the condom and Neal removed it from his fingers.

"Remember this trick?" Neal said. He put the condom in his mouth and bent over Peter, bracing his cock with a gentle grip. Despite the rubber, Peter felt the soft brush of Neal's lips and he could feel the pre-cum leaking copiously at the sensation.

His fingers were gentle inside Neal. He couldn't feel the scars and was glad of that. He took so long stretching him that Neal said, "You want me to take a nap and you'll wake me when you're ready?"

Peter slapped Neal's ass and saw his cock jump at the firm blow. Hmmm to that...

"Come here," Peter said, his voice rough with need. He wanted Neal on his back, wanted to see his expression. Wanted to be sure that Neal felt safe.

Neal was hard. His cock didn't even slacken when Peter breeched him. He made this sound, not a groan, not a sigh, an almost purr as if something was so right, like it was home to him that Peter was inside him.

Moving together, it was Neal's dance, his beautiful art, this love making. Peter kept closing his eyes, seeing Neal with his hands, knowing him with the every nerve, with all his senses. The lean torso, the absolute ridges of his abs, the narrowness of his hips that he loved to swivel as he walked, then the sensual paradise of his unexpectedly lush ass.

Peter moved in his lover, feeling the tightness yield. He opened his eyes. Neal glowed for him, his tender eloquent lips parted in a gasp, his blue eyes iridescent. Neal's nipples were hard and raised with his arousal.

"I want you to come," Neal said, pushing at Peter, pulling out of his ploys. "I'm not going to make it much longer."

It roared from Peter, a blast of sensation, his body clenched in this white hot arc of pleasure.

They came down together, limbs untangling, arms reaching. Tender embrace as Neal rested in his arms.

"Forever mine," Peter said.

"Yours," Neal agreed.

Peter would not leave him tonight. He would keep him safe and sated right here.

OooOooO

Peter was waiting when Neal came out of the agency. He could have come inside. He knew that, but he couldn't. It was difficult enough to even stand this near the office that had been his second home for twenty years. He and El held onto each other, her hand rubbing his arm at times to comfort him.

Neal ran from the building straight into Peter's arms. He turned to hug El and said, "I'm free, I'm free. Gless did it. I have a one hundred percent, bomb proof pardon. If I stay clean, I will never go back to prison again. I can love whom I will, go where I want..."

There was just one moment when Peter could not breathe, where his heart stopped, where his knees sagged and El held him up.

Neal got it. He said, "You moron. I choose you. I will love you. I will stay with you. I will work with you."

Peter didn't know he had it in him. He grabbed Neal, tilted him backwards like Peter was Fred Astaire and Neal was Ginger Rogers. He kissed him long and deep until Neal was gasping for air.

El gave Peter a dirty look and said, "Mister, I get one of those too."

Peter delivered. It wasn't hard when you lost your inhibitions. Just as an afterthought, Peter flipped off the building.

Fuck you. I have Neal and El. I have a beautiful office and I'm going to have a great life.

OooOooO

Colt's trial took longer, but he went down harder. Jerry Hinkler didn't swing a deal, but he got religion in jail. He wanted to testify against Colt and he did.

With Hinkler and Harmon turning on him and the solid forensic evidence, Colt was convicted of first degree assault and rape. He was going inside for a long time.

Neal attended the sentencing and made a victim's statement. He spoke about the physical pain, the terror, admitted that he was seeing a therapist...something he had not mentioned to Peter. Neal told the jury that he had trouble sleeping, that walking past alleys took all his courage, that the smell of garbage made him irrationally afraid and nauseous. He held his head high as he admitted all of this and Peter was proud of him.

Colt got fifteen years for rape and another five for first degree assault. His crime was considered aggravated rape because he had injured Neal during the assault. Colt looked as if his time was going to be particularly hard. He went for Neal as the bailiffs took him from the court room. It took two burly men to subdue him.

Shaken, Neal held onto Peter for a moment. He said, "I hope he is a lot worse at escaping than I was."

"No one is as good as you," Peter assured.

"It's over," Neal said. "Peter, you know how sorry I am."

"No, enough," Peter said. "Come one. Let's go check out our new office. El decorated it. Don't worry."

Outside the court room, Peter said, "I bought you something."

"What? A present?" Neal said excited.

Holding out the rectangular box, Peter said, "You don't have to wear this."

"It's not your lucky tie, is it?" Neal asked.

"No," Peter said.

Neal opened the box and drew out the thick gold anklet. The engraved dangle said, "Property of Peter Burke."

Neal laughed, hugged Peter, looked at the anklet again, and said, "Put it on, Peter. You can bet this is one anklet I won't ever cut. It's beautiful. You're beautiful."

Kneeling, Peter fastened the clasp and kissed Neal's ankle before standing up. He looked up into a face full of joy and hope.

Hand in hand, they walked into the future, one of love and no more secrets.

The end


End file.
